


Trying not to fall into the sky

by sqbr



Series: The further adventures of Rica and Martya Brosca [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Fanfiction, Female Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-10
Updated: 2010-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqbr/pseuds/sqbr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rica adjusting to life as an ambassador to Denerim after the events of Origins (with Martya Brosca as the PC). Has very vague references to the events of Awakenings but no spoilers. No real plot, I just sat down and thought about what happened next.</p>
<p>Explores Rica's relationships with Martya and Anora, also mentions a Martya/Alistair relationship (I don't <em>think</em> it's central enough to make this story het)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying not to fall into the sky

Ambassador Garlen cleared his throat and glared at the humans around him. "Yes, I can see why you would want to increase trade with _us_, your majesty, but I have to wonder what benefit the dwarves will gain if we trade more of our valuable lyrium for your flimsy human cloth and decadent surface grains. If I may explain to you the way we do things in Orzammar..."

Not for the first time, Rica sighed to herself and wondered what in the stone had possessed her sister to choose Harrowmont as the king of the dwarves, and what had possessed Harrowmont to send such a dry surface-hating stick-in-the-mud to be Ambassador. Self sufficiency and the Old Dwarven Ways were all well and good in theory, but Orzammar was dying, and there's only so much food and livestock you can raise off barren rock. If Bhelen was still alive...well. She probably wouldn't be here on the surface worrying about trade agreements in the first place, she'd be tucked away in some secure nursery being Mother the The Heir. She wondered what was happening in House Aeducan now, and whether Endrin was safe. It was increasingly clear that her position as "Ambassador" had just been an excuse to get her out of the city, presumably to avoid being caught in the cross fire as the other noble houses relished the chance to bring down the house that had lorded it over for them for so long.

But just because she wasn't _expected_ to be a real Ambassador didn't mean she wasn't going to be one anyway. Rica scanned the faces around her to see how they were reacting to Garlen's speech (boredom, mostly, except the representative from the Circle Tower who was looking increasingly frustrated) She was still getting the hang of human noble politics, but she had a fair idea of who she needed to persuade Garlen to schmooze. Assuming Garlen had it in him to schmooze anyone.

Regardless of Ferelden's much lauded "equality" (which of course only applied if you were human, noble, and preferably male), the main person who really had any power here was the Queen. Anora sat looking politely attentive, but Rica was fairly sure she was just doing a better job than most of the other nobles of hiding her irritation and boredom.

Garlen had finally gotten to the part of his speech where he specified the quotas and tariffs the Assembly had decided on. Except, he was specifying them _wrong_.

Rica coughed. "I beg your pardon Ambassador, but I believe you mean ten percent, not twenty, and _tonnes_ of lyrium not bags." 

He turned his glare on her and said "Yes, yes, obviously," before continuing.

Rica looked back to Queen Anora only to find she was looking contemplatively at Rica in return.

As the various groups made their case and tried to hash out some sort of compromise, the afternoon wore on, and eventually the meeting concluded with no real consensus reached. Rica gathered up her papers and prepared to go back to her chambers for some blessed silence. She was thus not really in the mood to be accosted by the Queen.

"You're Rica, aren't you, the sister of the Hero of Ferelden?" she said. "I believe we were introduced at my coronation."

"Yes your majesty. Although it's Lady Brosca now that my sister has been declared a Paragon." Rica was a little surprised at her own bluntness, but Garlen and the other dwarves had a tendency to "forget" she was a noble and she'd about had her fill of it.

"My apologies, Lady Brosca. I am far too ignorant of the customs of your people. Should I call your sister Lady Martya Brosca, then? How does she fare now that the Blight is over?"

"Yes, and last I heard she is very well. At the moment she's very busy setting up House Brosca."

"A task I am sure she will excel at. For all her protestations of hating politics your sister is quite the political force to be reckoned with. I get the impression you have an eye for these matters yourself."

"Why, thank you your majesty." Rica smiled and shifted the pile of papers in her arms to be more comfortable. Was this going somewhere? 

Something of Rica's thoughts must have crossed her face, for the queen said "But you look tired, and I am sure you have many preparations to make for tomorrow. We will speak later."

Whatever Rica had thought Anora meant by that, she was not expecting to be questioned in the middle of the next day's deliberations.

"I find myself wondering, Ambassador Garlen," said Anora, "As to whether or not you truly speak for your fellow dwarves in this matter. What do you say Lady Brosca, would it not benefit Orzammar as much as Denerim to pay to improve the trade routes between our cities?"

"King Harrowmont says it wouldn't," said Rica "And who am I to say otherwise?"

"Hmm," said the queen.

"Of course," Rica added, deciding that if she was going to be thrust into the centre of attention she might as well use it, "One thing I'm sure we can all agree _would_ help Orzammar _and_ Ferelden is the soldiers we were promised to fight the darkspawn." She turned to the human Arls and Banns. "I know many of your lands suffered during the Blight. How will we be able to rebuild trade if those lands are not given the chance to recover? If Orzammar is overrun it will not be long until Ferelden falls as well."

"Thank you, Lady Brosca, but I think that is a topic best left for another discussion."

Queen Anora did not seek Rica out after that day's session. They did not speak again until several days later, when Rica was walking through the grounds trying to convince herself she wasn't going to fall into the sky.

"I am glad to see you enjoying the gardens, Lady Brosca. I had the impression dwarves didn't like the outdoors," said Queen Anora.

"I'm going to have to get used to it unless I want to be stuck in my rooms all the time," she replied, "And these flowers are so pretty! All we had in Orzammar was coloured lichen."

"On the other hand your parks have glowing fountains of lava. Ours are not nearly so dramatic."

Rica laughed. "That's true. Though they're also not quite as dangerous."

Anora smiled and the two of them walked companionably in silence for a while. A breeze rustled through the trees and Rica shivered a little despite her thick coat. This whole _weather_ thing was very disconcerting.

Just when Rica was thinking of heading back inside to sit in a small windowless room for a while, Queen Anora spoke. "You intrigue me, Lady Brosca," she said. Rica wasn't sure she liked the sound of where this was going. "You are an intelligent and competent woman, widow of the son of the previous King and sister to a Paragon. Yet you're happy to remain little more than a clerk to an idiot like Garlen."

Widow, huh? Well, Martya had said these Fereldens had some very rigid ideas about sex and marriage, it was probably best not to point out that she and Bhelen had been a long way from married. "Thank you for the compliment your majesty, but I know my place. Ambassador Garlen is an experienced diplomat with the support of King Harrowmont and the Assembly, while I was casteless not so long ago and am very new to the surface. For now I am quite happy in my position."

"My father would say that being of common birth would make you more qualified to understand the ways of the world, not less."

"Your father sounds like he was an interesting man, I am sorry that I did not get to meet him."

"I might say the same thing about your husband. We met briefly when I visited Orzammar a few years ago but we did not get a chance to speak properly."

"It's a pity your sister chose to murder them both," hung unspoken in the air between them. Rica tried to think of a way to change the subject.

"Ah, so you have seen our lava fountains for yourself. Did you have a chance to visit the Crystal Caves?"

* * *

Rica had barely settled into her new life in Denerim when everything got a lot more complicated. Things were bad enough on the surface with the human noble power struggles and continued darkspawn attacks, but Orzammar was in chaos. Harrowmont's regime had collapsed, and now the King was on his deathbed with poison suspected as the cause. With no clear choice for King the Assembly was in even more disarray than they had been in the turbulent period before Harrowment's coronation. There had even been calls for _Martya_ to be made Queen, an idea that horrified her even more than it did the bigoted nobles who would rather civil war than a brand on the throne. And so Rica found herself having an unexpected family reunion with her sister and son, escaped to Denerim to avoid being unwillingly dragged into the conflict over the succession.

"This is what I get for not listening to your advice," said Martya. "What a disaster! And now I have to go take charge of some garrison of Orlesian Grey Wardens, while Orzammar tears itself to pieces in my wake. I should have stuck to being a Dusttown thug, at least then I knew what I was doing."

"Don't say that! You might have been wrong about Bhelen, but think of everything else you've achieved. You're a _Paragon_. You saved the whole world from the Blight! Here in Denerim everyone is always telling me how grateful they are for everything you've done, not just defeating the archdemon but bringing down Logain and lots of other great works. Queen Anora is certainly no Harrowmont."

Martya snorted. "Well, it's not like I had to think very hard about that decision, the only other alternative was Alistair. Can you imagine? The man practically needs me to tell him what order to put on his socks."

"I take it the honeymoon is over?"

"Ah, I'm sure we'll work it out. It's just that we had this big fight and then he had to go off to Weisshaupt. But I think the fact we never had a formal honeymoon is half the problem. He could deal with our relationship when we were always on the verge of death and everything was uncertain, but the idea of 'living in sin' long term seems to be too much for his narrow human mind to cope with. Not that he's shown any signs of proposing." Martya sighed and got up to waggle her fingers at Endrin, who was sitting on his nurse's knee and staring with undwarf-like glee out the window.

"And you don't want to get married? Is it because he's human? Just so you know, as a representative of House Brosca I'd certainly have no objection to Alistair polluting our oh-so-noble bloodline, not as long as he makes you happy. He's very handy for reaching things in high places."

"Well, it doesn't help that I'm not sure we _can_ get married and have it be recognised, not by his people or ours. I'm certainly not going to be making any vows in the name of the Maker, and he doesn't exactly fit into the caste system. But mainly it's just...it doesn't seem like it makes any sense to get married. It's not like we can settle down or have children." She looked wistfully at Endrin and Rica felt a pang of sympathy. "Speaking of which," she added, ruffling her nephew's hair, "I was thinking of making Endrin here my heir. House Aeducan is on it's last legs, so I can't see them putting up much of a fight to keep him, and ours is a much safer House to be aligned with right now. What do you say?"

"Oh Martya! Yes, absolutely!" Rica stood up and gave Martya a hug. "Do you hear that Endrin? You're the heir to House Brosca now! So you'd better do what your Auntie Martya says."

Being an obedient child, Endrin looked up at Martya expectantly.

"Look after your mother," she said "And avoid getting involved in politics."

"Ok," he replied, and then returned to watching the sparrows swooping over the grass.

"You remember to look after yourself as well," said Rica "And to write! I could understand not hearing from you when you were off saving the world but you'll have no excuse when you're only in the next city."

"Oh don't worry, I'm sure I'll be begging for advice once I have to start settling all the warden's petty disputes. That and I'll be so _bored_. At least in Orzammar I had the odd assassination attempt to keep things interesting. Still, Leliana said she'd visit. You could come visit too, I hear there's quite a community of dwarves living near Amaranthine so you could even justify it as official Ambassador business."

"Absolutely. We'll come visit you the first chance we get."

* * *

But of course things weren't that simple, Martya got caught up in yet more life-or-death end-of-the-world drama and Rica was still stuck untangling the less violent but no less personally dangerous entanglements of court.

"Well," said Queen Anora, as she joined Rica once again on her now daily walk through the gardens. "Garlen's replacement didn't last long. It seems you were wise not to put yourself forward at such a turbulent time. I would hate to see you be sent home or assassinated."

"No, I wouldn't like that much either." Rica smiled, but she was troubled. She enjoyed Queen Anora's company, but in her experience nobles did not cultivate their inferior's company as she had been doing without some ulterior motive. Anora had thankfully stopped pressing Rica to discuss any of the more delicate aspects of Orzammaran politics but there had to be something.

The queen hesitated. "As you know I recently returned from a trip to Orlais. I saw this and thought Endrin might like it, since he is so fond of animals." She gave Rica a small bag, in which was a wooden toy horse, beautifully carved and articulated at the joints. Anora watched Rica's reaction with a not-quite camouflaged expression of nervousness.

"Oh but this is too kind!" Rica stopped and examined the horse. It was gorgeous, with delicate detailed paintwork in the distinctive Orlesian style, and must have been hideously expensive. "Your majesty…this is _too_ kind. I don't think I can accept it. It might look like a bribe, and it's important that I appear to be objective."

She frowned up at Anora and held her gaze. "It's _not_ a bribe, is it? Because I am loyal to my people, and would like to think you knew that already."

"No, it's not a bribe! Really, who tries to bribe someone with _toys_? If I was going to bribe you I'd at least have the decency to offer something a bit more useful, like gold or gemstones. It's not a bribe for Endrin either, even if he does look like he might end up King one day. I just…thought he'd like it." Anora look of annoyance and embarrassment seemed sincere enough to make Rica feel better. But then a worse possibility occurred to her.

"Then, forgive me for being so blunt your majesty, but are you trying to seduce me? Because despite what you may have heard I am not for sale in that way either."

"What?! No!" Rica was a little amused that this idea seemed to genuinely shock the Queen in a way that the idea of a bribe had not. "Truly, Lady Brosca, I have no ulterior motive. I like you, and I like your son, and I wanted to make him happy. Obviously I haven't been doing a very good job of it, but I have been trying to be your friend. It's probably no surprise to you at this point that I do not have many."

"Oh," said Rica. She considered the possibility that Anora was lying. She decided that it was not impossible, but if you suspected everyone all the time you'd go mad. "I am very sorry to have been so suspicious then, when you were just trying to be kind."

"Oh, do not feel too sorry for me. I must admit that when I first cultivated your acquaintance I _was_ mainly trying to get some leverage against Garlen. I suppose I should have known better than to try and manipulate anyone from Orzammar." She smiled her little half smile and Rica decided not to be offended.

"I see. Well, thank you for the thought, but it still might _look_ like a bribe, even if it isn't one. Perhaps you should give it to Alistair, my sister says he likes figurines."

Anora made a face. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you. Perhaps I can use it to bribe one of the Banns, they all like horses."

"From what I've heard," said Rica carefully "The Banns prefer gold bribes too. Bann Ceorlic in particular has a well established penchant for Antivan gold."

"Is that so?" said Anora. "Well. Perhaps I should go discuss this with him, and find out what gifts his benefactors like to receive in return." Her eyes narrowed and Rica decided she should definitely avoid getting on Anora's bad side.

They walked past the large fountain in the centre of the court (which seemed much less safe now that Rica had to spend so much time stopping Endrin from throwing himself into it) and onto a path between beds of scented herbs. Rica carefully avoided the larger groups of bees buzzing around the flowering bushes. Bees had been one of her less pleasant new discoveries on the surface.

"In a similar spirit of friendship," said Anora, "You might like to know that certain members of the dwarf delegation have been heard making offers of less conventional sources of lyrium supply to the Chantry. I believe the deep road entrance near the West Hills was mentioned."

"Why thank you, your majesty," said Rica, "That is good to know."

There was a lot to be said for friendship.


End file.
